


But Things Aren't Clear

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that Darren will always know, no matter how much time passes or what happens to him.</p><p>Chris is one of those things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Things Aren't Clear

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran's "Sunburn."

When his phone rings the first time, Darren misses it by accident.

The second time, he takes one look at who’s calling and lets it ring through.

The third time, he blatantly ignores it.

He’s not expecting the fourth time, but for some reason, that’s the time he picks it up. He doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t know what to say.

"So that’s it, then?" Chris’s voice always sounds so thin over a telephone line, but there’s something more to it now. Like a fragile piece of paper about to get torn into pieces.

Darren’s shoulders feel heavy and he sits, cradling his forehead in his hand. He’s blissfully alone. And he’s tired. He’s  _exhausted_.

"Yeah." Darren’s voice is hoarse, and it has nothing to do with how worn out his vocal cords are. “I guess it is."

Chris doesn’t say anything, and Darren doesn’t try to keep the conversation alive. All he can hear is Chris’s breathing—even, and calm, and absolutely forced that way. It hurts Darren more than he thought it would, because he knows exactly when and why Chris breathes that way.

He wishes he didn’t. But there are some things that Darren will always know, no matter how much time passes or what happens to him.

Chris is one of those things.

"Chris—" Darren starts, when it feels like the silence is starting to make him crack apart. But he isn’t sure what else to say, and Chris doesn’t help him. There’s a hitch in his breath, a moment of weakness, before it’s gone again.

Darren nearly just hangs up, but he’s not there yet. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be there, if he’ll ever just be able to treat Chris like he doesn’t mean anything to him.

His heart clenches.

"…why did you call?" Darren doesn’t know what else to say or ask. Chris let’s out an incredulous, humorless huff of laughter. It’s wet, and Darren wants to go and find a hole to lay in for being the reason that sound even exists.

He hates himself. He hates himself for still caring so much when he isn’t supposed to anymore.

"I don’t know." Chris’s voice wavers, and if Darren let himself close his eyes, he knows he’d be able to see Chris, sitting at home somewhere, head bowed with the phone pressed to his ear, wearing—

He doesn’t close his eyes.

"I thought maybe…" But he doesn’t say what he thought. Darren doesn’t need him to say it.

 _I thought maybe it wasn’t real_.

Darren doesn’t know how to say that it isn’t, but that it has to be. He doesn’t know how to say,  _it doesn’t change anything_ , without just hurting Chris more than he already has.

"Chris," Darren says again, but his voice cracks in the middle of it. Where before he’d wanted to just hang up, now he’s desperate to keep Chris on the phone. It feels like this could be the end of things, even if the end came so long ago now. Well, it feels long, even though maybe not so much time has actually passed.

"What, Darren?"

It sounds too good to hear Chris say his name, even if his voice is hurt and tired when he says it.

Darren did that.

"I—"

"Don’t." Chris’s whisper is pleading in a way that makes Darren’s throat dry up with whatever he’d been about to say. “You can’t undo this. You can’t… Fix everything that’s been destroyed and invalidated. You can’t."

Destroyed. 

Invalidated. 

Is that how Chris sees it?

But Darren knows it’s the truth. It had been bad enough, what they’d had to do for something that, to him, seemed so  _simple_. All the hoops that had to be jumped through, all the lies that had to be told, all the stories that had to be fabricated. Everything that had been done to create a shield around  _them_ , not just to protect them but to hide them. Like it was something that needed to be hidden.

It had been hard, and it had been painful, and Darren had just cast aside the entire struggle with a few words on a piece of paper. Words he tried to forget ever saying, like maybe that would make them go away.

The pain sinks into him, sharp and sudden, like dozens of shards that he’d been holding at bay suddenly piercing him all at once. He presses a hand to his chest, like he’ll feel the sticky wetness of blood there.

"It’s late," Chris says, suddenly. And it is—later for Darren than for him, but it doesn’t matter. Darren can’t see himself sleeping any time soon. “And… This was a mistake."

“ _Please_." Darren knows he fucked up. He fucked it all up, and he tacked all these horrible words on it, and maybe he tainted something that was beautiful and amazing and  _theirs_  forever. But he can’t hear Chris say it, too.

Chris saying it makes it feel true.

"It was. I shouldn’t have called. I don’t know… I don’t know why I thought it would help."

Darren wonders how Chris imagined this phone call going. He bets that if it had played out the way Chris had wanted it to, maybe they’d both be happier right now. Maybe Darren would have more to look forward to in the coming weeks. Maybe seeing Chris again would breed better things than an awkward tension that can’t be dissolved.

"It could… It still could." Darren wants it to. So badly, he suddenly wants to fix everything, to go back and have what he had, to take back words he never meant, to not agree to things that had made his throat feel thick and his shoulders feel heavy.

"Darren." Chris’s voice is scolding, and not assuring. Like he’s given Darren all the chances he had to give. No more lives, no 1-Ups.

Game over.

"Would you ever—"

"I don’t know." Chris wavers again, and this time Darren let’s himself imagine. Chris with his eyes closed, long fingers curled around the bulk of his phone. Sitting and maybe hunched over, or curled up on his side, feet bare and tucked together. Darkness, and comfy clothes. Clothes maybe Darren wore once, or things that maybe belonged to him that Chris stole away so long ago that Darren can’t even remember now.

It hurts.

"That’s not a no." Darren can’t help but be a little teasing, a little hopeful. When things aren’t so fucked up, when life doesn’t feel like a circus act that never seems to end. It’ll be a shit storm, and everything might be gone. But it might not be. And Darren thinks,  _it’ll be worth it_.

He thinks,  _it’s worth it now_.

He thinks,  _I wish I could do this all differently and show Chris that_.

But right now, Darren is just words, and his words don’t mean anything to Chris. Not anymore.

"Yeah, well, when you love someone, it’s hard to use definitive statements."

 _When you love someone_. The fact that Chris doesn’t say  _loved_ , doesn’t make it  _past_ tense, doesn’t go unnoticed. Darren wants to say something, wants to let Chris know that it’s not past tense for him either. But it’s another one of those things that would just hurt both of them. Darren still loving him has to go unsaid, because saying it would just make what he’s doing to them, to what they had, to what they both  _feel_ , so much worse.

"You know… I think I can," Darren says, suddenly, and Chris makes an inquisitive noise down the line. For a second, it feels normal. It feels like how things always were between them. Like things should always be. “I think I can fix it."

"Please don’t, Darren."

And it’s not a  _please don’t fix it_ , it’s a  _please don’t say things like that_. Chris isn’t good with hope, especially false hope. He fights it, and denies it, and rather sit in his pessimism and wait for the world to surprise him.

Darren wants to surprise him. God, he wants to fix this.

But he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t even know where to start. He doesn’t know who will fight him on it, and who will support him, or how long it will take.

_When you go so far down, you can only go up, right?_

But it’s not a promise he can make. Right now, it’s just something he wants, something he’ll have to work towards.

A promise he can make to himself, but not to Chris.

Because Darren can be selfish, but he won’t be. Not about this.

"Dare?"

The nickname rolls off easily, and it almost makes Darren choke out a dry sob. Chris is silent for a long time after saying it, and if Darren couldn’t hear his breathing he would think that Chris had simply hung up. Darren waits for Chris to back step, to apologize for it… But he doesn’t.

"Yes, Chris?" Darren says softly after too many long moments.

"You should sleep."

Darren almost wants to laugh, but he keeps it in. He also sort of wants to cry, but he doesn’t let himself do that, either. He knows he won’t be able to sleep, despite how tired he is. His head is too loud.

"Are  _you_  going to sleep?"

And this time, when Chris talks, Darren thinks he might hear the hint of a smile.

"Goodnight, Darren."

"Goodnight, Chris."


End file.
